Conversations
by wolfchic011
Summary: Missing scenes from The Culmination. Part 2 of the sequel to Frizzy Hair and Field Trips.


Missing conversations from _The Culmination_.  s/8833991/1/The-Culmination 

I've had these floating around, half-finished for awhile and I decided to finally finish and post them. These are the conversations the mysterious woman from _The Culmination_ had with Arnold, Keesha, Carlos, and Tim. This is also a sequel to my multi-chapter story: _Frizzy Hair and Field Trips_.

* * *

Arnold left his fiancé's side, smiling harder than he had in days. Things were finally coming together. He'd finally done it. After years of considering it with Wanda, plucking up the courage to ask Phoebe out after his break-up, two of the happiest years of his life and a small loan, he had given the woman he loved a promise of his commitment. They were going to be married.

"Jasper!" He called, waving to the elderly man he'd caught sight of across the room. The old geologist turned slowly, his eyes lighting up when he caught sight of Arnold jogging towards him.

"Good to see you sir!" He greeted his old mentor, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "I imagine you've heard about that new vein of schists that Dr. Terese reported in the north quadrant of the preserve? I've started the paperwork and we can get a team together by summer…!"

"Slow down boy, I'm not dead yet!" Jasper growled, the corner of his moustache turned up in a smirk.

"Of course not sir." Arnold replied, smirking. "Just trying to keep you on your toes."

"Keep trying boy." He smirked. "And I'd prefer that you stop acting as if I don't know you and 'Dr. Terese' are together."

Arnold blushed, still amazed at how well his mentor was at cutting right to the chase. "I'm sorry, Jasper, I was trying to be discrete."

"I'm not blind boy, anyone can see how much you two care for each other." He patted Arnold on the shoulder. "And I've known you since you were nine, I know when you are trying to be 'discrete'."

Arnold rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. "So I'm guessing you've already figured out that I asked her to marry me?"

"I had not but I had my suspicions." The old codger winked conspiratorially. "I take it congratulations are in order?"

Arnold blushed again, nodding.

"Well, congratulations boy!" He clapped Arnold on the arm, so hard that the younger man actually winced. "It's about time you and her tied the knot! I don't know why you kept putting it off."

Arnold sighed, his reservations from yesterday flooding back to him like an incoming tide. "I was just worried we'd always be too busy. Or that I'll get in her way." He huffed agitatedly and bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet. "I still am. This is all so new to me…Wanda and I never got to this stage."

Sure he and Wanda had talked about marriage but she'd flatly declined anytime he'd even jokingly offered to pop the question. Then they'd drifted apart and ultimately broken up. Not a great track record.

"It's new to everyone, Arnold." Jasper cut in, "there's no manual to study, no notes to give. I cant tell you how to handle this." As tough as his voice was, Arnold could still tell that he cared very deeply. "You have to consider what's about to change, and how you can adapt to that in the future. You have to be willing to compromise with her."

Arnold bit his lip, contemplating just how much had shifted in his life, even in the last few hours. Phoebe was very happy now but she seemed more emotionally reserved at the same time. This whole process of fighting for the preserve had changed her. She was more confident now and more driven, he saw it. Winning this fight had lit a fire in her and he was sure she's wasn't done trying to save the environment. Not anytime soon. He'd caught her calling Carlos this morning for advice navigating the legal sector of environmental policy. He wasn't sure what to make of that. Was she shifting her focus from research to politics? As supportive as he was, he didn't know how to be there for her if that was where she wanted to go.

"That is always the trouble with married scientists." Jasper said gruffly. Arnold glanced at him. "My wife and I have been married for forty years. You remember Clarissa? She's an astronomer. People told her we'd never last; me with my head in the dirt and her with her head in the stars. But we made it work."

He smiled at Arnold, offering him a comforting pat. "I'm not saying it'll be easy son, but if anyone can figure out some way to make it work, it'll be the kid who won the Rocky Award when he was nine." He straightened up, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must go find my stellar wife and spin her a few times on the dance floor. Keeps things fresh!"

"Don't break your hip." Arnold joked. Jasper grumbled good-naturedly, straightened his bowtie and sauntered over towards the side of the room where an older woman in a stunning red cocktail dress waited for him.

Arnold watched the two lovers reunite, Jasper spinning his wife romantically as he embraced her. _I hope Phoebe and I are still that much in love with each other forty years from now…_ Talking with Jasper had reminded him of why he had proposed to Phoebe in the first place. They would make it work.

With his mentor otherwise occupied, he eyed the crowd around Keesha strategically, planning his way in. A slight break opened up between a hydrologist he knew from grad school and a lawyer he was pretty sure hadn't been invited and he took his opportunity to slide into the chaos.

Arnold made his way towards Keesha, intending to rescue her from a clearly infatuated Dr. Tides, who seemed to be trying to pitch a movie to her right here. He sped up, hoping he could make it before Tides inevitably started talking about his collection of movie posters. That was a conversation better left unspoken.

But then someone bumped into him and apologized profusely.

He very nearly brushed it off, but his manners won. "it's quite alright…" He began, turning to face them, the rest of his sentence dying in his throat as he saw who had run into him.

It was a very attractive dark-haired woman, curvy in all the right places and strangely angular in others. But he wasn't awestruck because he was attracted to her. Rather, he had the strangest sensation that he _knew_ this woman.

She blinked at him, her large, brown eyes looking at him as if she'd seen a ghost. The two of them stood there for a long moment, as if afraid that moving would frighten the other away.

Arnold was the one who broke the gaze, muttering an apology and turning back towards Keesha's crowd. But before he'd even taken a step, a gentle hand closed on his arm.

"Arnold…" The woman was still staring at him but her face had lightened considerably. She was smiling pleasantly now. "it's lovely to see you here…" she said softly and Arnold could find no insincerity in her voice.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asked, careful to keep any hint of challenge out of his voice. It felt like this woman would run if he showed even the slightest hint of aggression.

Her expression darkened very subtly but she merely shook her head and released his arm. "Not quite…but I just had a lovely conversation with Phoebe…" Her face turned up in a smile.

Arnold stiffened.

"She's perfect for you." The woman continued, looking back through the crowd towards the bar. "I know you two will be very happy."

There was something in the way she said that that aroused Arnold's suspicions. _Was she listening to my conversation with Jasper?_

The crowd was thick around them but neither one noticed or cared. The woman's eyes lit up suddenly, as if she had just remembered something. "How is your work going?" She asked Arnold. "I heard you had been awarded a Guggenheim fellowship for your work on the selection of the Bowie Base 1 landing site."

Arnold was impressed and his suspicions relaxed somewhat. She was clearly part of the scientific community and had probably known of him from some of the new articles about him that had been circulating this past year. One had mentioned his relationship with Phoebe.

"That was five years ago," He admitted, "And I left that project last year. I'm actually applying for a grant to work in Phoebe's new preserve. The geology there is fascinating."

"Wonderful!" The woman exclaimed, positively beaming with pride. "Does your fiancé know?"

He nodded, glancing towards the bar. "Yes, I'm…" He caught site of Phoebe sitting alone, nursing a glass of wine and he considered Jasper's advice. "I'm planning a site that will keep us close to each other. That way we can both do our work and still be together." He wasn't going to spend any more time away from her than he had to. They'd already wasted plenty of time dating other people and dancing around their feelings. He was going to make sure he was always there for her, no matter what.

"I'm sure it will be an interesting study," the woman was saying, drawing him out of his thoughts. "the compression provided by the mountains and natural gas deposits must provide an interesting vein for study."

Arnold felt his eyebrows go up in surprise at this woman's knowledge of geologic processes. Perhaps she was a geology postdoc or faculty fellow. He'd have to get her credentials. "Yes, the folks at GRANITE have been raving about it since Phoebe discovered it. They cant wait to get in there and take a closer look."

One of her perfectly arched eyebrows rose. "Oh? So you are still a member of GRANITE…" The woman's voice was conversational.

Arnold blushed. "I was named Vice President last year actually…" He then realized that he'd never mentioned his association with GRANITE.

 _How did she…?_

But the conspiratorial thoughts swirling in his mind were cut short by a quiet sob.

Arnold froze, startled. The woman was crying. Rather heavily. Tears slipped from her eyes and curved down the concave space created by her high cheekbones, dripping off her chin.

"Uhhh…" His hands fluttered awkwardly, wondering if it would be appropriate for him to console her. "Are you alright?"

She didn't wipe her eyes. She seemed to want to feel the tears running down her face. "I am sorry…" She said thickly, "I just…" She grasped his hand and despite her weeping, her grip was iron-clad. "I always knew you'd go far Arnold." She told him, her thumb lightly stroking the back of his hand. "You always doubted yourself but you made it. And now you're going to share that wonderful success with someone you love so dearly…"

She dropped his hand and took a step back, tears falling freely down her face. "Take care of yourself now, Arnold…push yourself everyday. Don't be afraid."

She took a step past him and the crowd began to swallow her up.

Arnold was seized with a sudden realization: he did not know her name. "Wait! Who are you?" He called after her, stretching out his hand as if to grab her arm.

She turned back briefly, a twinkle in her tearful eyes. And then, as if she had suddenly flicked a switch to become invisible, she was gone.

But the twinkle and its haunting familiarity remained imprinted on his mind. It was the look of someone who has just gotten a crazy idea, someone who knew what was about to happen and had complete control. He knew that look, he'd memorized that look, feared that look, and learned to love that look…

And now he felt as if he'd just seen it for the last time. Like water that had slipped through his fingers and flowed away down a river, it was lost.

He stumbled out of the crowd, feeling like it had just trampled him. What had that been?

A suggestion wriggled at the back of his mind but logic quickly crushed it.

It was impossible…she was dead. She'd been dead for twenty years…

Looking up, Arnold spotted Phoebe at the bar and began to make his way towards her. Phoebe would make it better. She always had. He was here for her and she'd always be there for him.

Together, they could take on the world.

* * *

"Yes, yes it's very nice to see you too!"

Keesha waved at yet another benefactor whose name she half recalled (Mr. Jeffories?) and shot another longing look towards the bar. Far across the sea of red faces she could not part, sat her best friend having what looked like a very nice chat with a dark-haired woman. Keesha longed to be over there. But it would probably be another fifteen minutes at least until she could make her way to people she actually wanted to see.

She fixed a beaming smile on her face as she greeted an older man with a beard who said something about tides and immediately started regaling her for her work on _World of Darkness_. Keesha listened attentively, inwardly pretending she had just been asked to marry the love of her life to keep her mask from slipping. Tonight was not about her. Tonight was about Phoebe. She couldn't let her own emotions get in the way.

As she kept moving, she kept switching faces, changing personalities based on who she was talking to. She pulled characters and expressions from old theatre projects, acting exercises, anything she had on hand to keep her real emotions from showing. The ritual was tiring but it was the only way she was able to hold herself together in trying situations.

As the hydrologist griped her hand tightly and began discussing the potential in a movie about wetlands, Keesha had a sudden desire to be wandering through the crowd, maybe mingling around strangers' conversations or even fighting her way towards the bar. She shot another glance in that direction but her view was blocked. She said a polite goodbye to the hydrologist and a half-hearted promise to look him up. Then she turned to her next admirer, a young professional who seemed to be having trouble forming a sentence that wasn't a pick-up line.

Inwardly, Keesha sighed. Sometimes she wished she was normal again, able to walk through a room without needing to sign three autographs and pose for a photo. At the same time however, she couldn't deny that she loved what she did. With a gracious refusal of his advance stolen from her role as Harriet Tubman, she sent the young hopeful on his way.

She'd wanted to be an actress ever since her mother had taken her to see her first play at age 5. She remembered almost nothing of the experience of sitting in the theatre because she was too enthralled at the story happening up on stage. She remembered the passion of the actors, the way that one song had hit its crescendo and just exploded across the stage of her young psyche. Nothing had ever had a greater impact on her. Well…at least not until 3rd grade…

She shook away the painful memories and tried to take a few steps forward out of the crowd. They flexed but did not disperse. Now she had her dream…she was a star. A celebrity whose popularity and marketability had only continued to skyrocket to new heights. Everything she was doing was only turning out great: commercials, movies, guest-appearances, charities...

So why did she feel so uneasy shaking all these hands and plastering on fake characters to be polite? Maybe it was the lingering sense that they only fawned over her because she was pretty and popular. Like a queen bee they had to appease until she lost her appeal and they replaced her with the next monolith star to fawn over.

It made her stomach turn.

No one ever cared about her brilliant mind underneath, or her Biology degree from NYU that was hanging next to her acting certificate from NYADA. Nowadays it was all about her face, her body, who she was or wasn't dating…

"How are you tonight?"

Keesha looked up, startled at the new voice and found herself face-to-face with a very attractive dark-haired woman. The stranger smiled warmly at her, just like people used to before she was a big name and they traded manners for tripping over themselves to compliment her. The crowd around her was beginning to dissipate, people inexplicably wandering off or drifting away from the woman before her. Keesha was startled but not entirely displeased.

"I don't believe we've met." Keesha said just as warmly and in her own voice, extending her hand to the woman. "Keesha Franklin." She wondered why the woman's face looked wet and her eyes looked a little red.

The woman shook her hand enthusiastically, seeming painfully un-distressed. "Charmed." She did not offer Keesha her name. "If you don't mind me asking, what brings you to this humble science gala?" There was no challenge or weight of expectation in her words. It was just a simple, innocent inquiry.

Against her personal rules of public interactions, Keesha told the full truth. "I'm here for my best friend, Phoebe Terese. And I love science." She admitted, a genuine smile reaching her eyes for the first time that night. She couldn't help it; this woman was too real for her to need to pretend.

The woman nodded at her statement with great interest. "Really?" She seemed quite enthralled at Keesha's enthusiasm.

"I was actually a consultant on _Into the Rainforest."_ Keesha told her, forgetting that her agent had told her never to mention that.

To her great surprise, the woman's eyes lit up at the title. _"_ Oh yes, I quite enjoyed that one. Especially the bit about the Birds-of-Paradise. Fantastic creatures."

Keesha nodded. It had been back before her acting career had really taken off and she'd been in desperate need of cash. Her biology degree and pretty face had landed her a job on the slightly misogynistic set. She'd worked her butt off and ignored the catcalls of her co-workers and the tv special had received great ratings and even praise from prominent scientists for its scientific accuracy.

"It wasn't the best job," Keesha admitted. "But I got to do something with my science degree. And I was good at it."

"You don't still do that?"

Keesha felt her smile slip. "Well, no. Not really. I'm more…I do more the movie side of things these days."

She wasn't sure why she wasn't cluing this woman in. Or how someone else wasn't. But she didn't care. It was nice to have a real conversation with someone for once.

The woman raised her eyebrows slightly. "Oh? Are you a director?"

Keesha laughed. "No…I'm…well I was once." She paused for a moment, memories she hadn't considered in years entering from the wings and onto the stage of her mind. "Well there was…" She chuckled at the memory. "There was always my first project… in elementary school."

The woman was silent but smiled encouragingly. Keesha took that as an invitation to elaborate.

"I directed a movie my classmates and I made about ants. It was…actually one of the most difficult experiences of my life. Everything went wrong, I was unprepared and I almost gave up. But that made it all worth it in the end." She felt her public mask slip slightly as memories of 3rd grade crept up on her. "I really loved that…"

The woman considered her silently for a few moments. "So why didn't you keep doing that?" She finally asked.

She shrugged, long over the ambitions of her childhood. "It just didn't work out…my family didn't like the idea. They thought I'd do better as an actress…" She couldn't help the small curl of anger that rose in her stomach as she thought of her parents. 'No room in the director's chair for a woman.' Her father had told her once.

Her companion smiled kindly. "I'm sure your family would be just as proud of a daughter directing movies as they would a star actress." She said genuinely.

Keesha felt her jaw clench.

"Mom and dad were never around much." She said, trying not to sound too bitter. "Too busy with their charity work in this or that poverty-stricken village on the other side of the world. They phoned maybe once a month if they remembered. Too busy." She shrugged. "No time for me." It no longer bothered her. The fact that the last real experience she remembered having with her mother was that play when she was 5. The fact that her father hadn't called in almost two years.

"I was raised by my grandmother." She continued, before realizing she was probably saying too much. The grief threatened to rise and engulf her but she swallowed it hard with several deep breaths and the role of a giddy football fan she had once played back when she was another nameless extra.

"How is she?"

The simple question shattered any hope of concealment. A tear slipped down her cheek, another one hot on its tail. She should have tried to conceal them. But she just couldn't anymore.

"She…she's fine now."

She was really crying now, full on waterworks running down her cheeks. After two years of fighting, her tough old grandmother had finally given up. She was at peace. Keesha had to remember that.

To her surprise, Keesha found a warm hand on hers and a gentle tug away from the rest of her fans. The woman wordlessly pulled her towards a corner of the room where a large potted plant rested. She tucked Keesha half-out of sight behind it, positioning herself in front of the star but not trapping her in the corner. Keesha wiped her eyes in an effort to conceal her gratitude and surprise.

For an actress on the rise such as herself, privacy was a luxury, not an expectation.

"It's alright to show grief when you are sad." The woman counseled her gently, rubbing her arm in comfort. "Such a loss as that should not be one you hide but one you share."

Keesha took a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears from thickening her voice. "Share? With whom?"

Her comforter's eyes softened. "Those you love." She responded instantly. "And those who love you. Let them know you are hurting, you aren't happy. Otherwise, how can they know to help? You cant be afraid to be yourself, to follow your own dreams, even when others demand for you to be someone else." The look in her eyes was distant, faraway as if she were contemplating some deeper meaning in her words.

Keesha watched her for a long moment, slowly getting herself back under control. As she watched this stranger share her sorrow, it brought to mind a mentor she'd had long ago. One who had always offered her support, care and guidance, even when she had been acting stubborn and insufferable.

Fresh tears joined the old ones as she recalled what had happened to that mentor. How she'd never gotten the chance to thank her for her selfless gifts and unwavering commitment. She'd been the only one who hadn't cried at the funeral. Why was that? What was wrong with her?

She choked back a rather loud sob and the other woman snapped back to attention. Her face warmed. "I know your grandmother was so proud of you…" The woman said gently, brushing a stray curl behind Keesha's ear in a manner that was distinctly motherly. Her hand drifted down the side of Keesha's face to rest under her chin. "I'm proud of you too….you never let go of your values and love for facts…" The woman swallowed hard, her eyes hardening with regrets and pride. "You followed your dreams but remembered your friends…Always remember your friends, Keesha. They need you. And you need them."

Keesha stared at her, feeling a small piece of her heart that she had always tried to keep locked away from the world try to peek out from behind its wall. While she feared giving all of herself away to others, even those she trusted, right now, with this friendly stranger, she felt as if her worry was for nothing. She let those walls fall.

The woman gently held Keesha's chin in her fingers, smiling at the actress like she was the most precious thing in the world. "You'll be fine." She whispered, more to herself than to Keesha.

And for the first time all night, Keesha believed she could be. "Thank you…" Keesha sobbed, lowering her face and sniffing miserably.

The woman took a step back, seeming on the verge of tears herself. "Good luck, Keesha." She said thickly. She turned to leave.

"Wh…where are you going?" Keesha asked her, lunging forward and somewhat pathetically clinging to the woman's hand.

The stranger refused to look at her, her eyes trained on the double doors across the ballroom floor.

"You'll have to forgive me for slipping away." She replied. "But I have so much to do…"

She pulled her arm out of Keesha's grip with a finality that inexplicably broke Keesha's heart.

"Goodbye…" The woman whispered. She crossed the floor confidently and quickly, her long, elegant legs eating up the distance between her and the exit. Keesha watched her go until the doors swung shut behind her and she vanished into the night.

Lost in thought and adrift in her misery, she gravitated towards the bar, where her best friend sat waiting with another of her closest childhood friends.

The pain of losing her grandmother was now joined by a pain that cut just as deep and had been held within her significantly longer. But rather than destroying her, the release was cathartic, like letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

She had finally said goodbye.

* * *

Carlos made his way out of the auditorium and into the ballroom, the triumphant jitters only increasing as his entrance initiated a wave of applause.

Ever the performer, he bowed dramatically. "Thank you, thank you all, you are too kind!" He did his best Ellen DeGeneres voice and several in the crowd laughed in appreciation. He hammed it up with a few winks and finger guns, soaking up the attention. When he wasn't being his super-serious lawyer self, he let his fun side out.

As the crowd began to quiet down, he pulled back his act a little, waiting for the inevitable wave of admirers and congratulators to come forward and greet him. To his surprise, the first was the woman who had challenged them on the stage.

"I'm sorry for confronting you before." She said, wringing her hands anxiously as the others politely dispersed. "I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into."

Carlos smiled reassuringly at her. "it's no problem. You actually gave us a great motivation for making a long-time dream come true."

Her eyes wide, she looked up at him. "You are going to build the school then?" She asked, sounding hopeful and almost desperate.

Carlos didn't consider his answer long. "Yes." He told her. "We are." Truth be told, it had been nagging incessantly at the back of his mind ever since they'd visited Walkerville Elementary for this film. Actually deciding to do it was like finally scratching at an itch he'd been trying to ignore.

She looked as if she wanted to embrace him but held herself back with an enormous amount of restraint. But Carlos felt a tiny burst of something akin to mudita blossom in his chest. He smiled gently at her.

"What brings you here tonight?" He asked her, leading her on a leisurely stroll through the crowded ballroom. She easily kept pace with his long legs, her sharp black heels clicking on the ballroom floor.

"Just looking for some answers." She replied, all of her previous emotions disappearing from her voice. If Carlos had to describe it, she sounded almost defensive.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you a reporter?"

She stiffened slightly. "Not quite."

Carlos wasn't one to put someone in the hot seat. Unless they were on the stand and they deserved it, of course. He pulled back a bit, letting his natural humorous side take charge of the conversation. "Who do you write for? Anyone I would know or should be concerned about talking to?"

His tactic had the intended effect. She laughed at his humor, her eyes lighting up. "I'm an independent." She admitted. "Tied to no one. You can be frank with me."

Carlos grinned, loving the way she seemed to be egging him on. "Well, I don't know why I'd want to be Frank when _I'm_ a much more interesting character…"

This time she actually laughed so hard that several people around them glanced their way with interest.

"You really are very funny Mr. Ramon…" She chortled. "Why aren't you a comedian?"

Carlos shrugged wryly. "I don't do so well in front of crowds. Sure, I can talk in front of them or at them but actually entertaining them? Not really my strong suit."

She said nothing so he continued, a story he'd forbidden any of his friends from telling slipping to the forefront of his mind. "I had a brief stand-up routine in college…I got booed off the stage on my third night. Someone actually threw a tomato at me…" He shuddered, remembering the cool, wet way the tomato had slid down the side of his face. He'd given up his dreams of stand-up glory after that.

The woman seemed amused by the story but not in the least bit vindictive. She seemed to really enjoy hearing about his past. Not out of curiosity but from a place of genuine care and concern. She chuckled, patting him gently on the shoulder. "I'm sure you weren't that bad."

Carlos shook his head, pursing his lips together. "No, I was. Still am." He stopped walking. "No one thinks my jokes are funny, not even Tim. No, it's best I stick to arguing, that's where I excel."

Her kind smile slipped slightly, bordering more on a sad gaze. She slowly removed her hand from his arm. "That's right, you're a lawyer now, aren't you? How is that going? Made any landmark decisions lately?"

Carlos could physically feel his entire being light up with excitement. "I just won the Moss vs. Pearlstein case." He said breathlessly. "after two years, the Walkerville Swamp is finally free from any future threats of development…"

He continued to rant about the details of the case — especially how he'd given Janet's corporate employees so much grievance, they'd probably set a hit-man on him — until he noticed the glassy look in his companion's eye.

Before he could ask her what was wrong, she spoke in a trembling, tear-choked voice. "You're doing such great work…would you…?" She took a deep breath and sniffed hard. When she spoke again, her voice was iron-clad. "Would you be a teacher at the school?"

Carlos was taken aback. "I don't know…I'm thinking about it, but…I worry that I'm working too hard sometimes. All these side projects on top of my cases…maybe I need to calm down a bit." He did sometimes wonder when he'd let his life become run by a schedule. The last time he'd spoken to any of his friends except Tim had been this morning when Phoebe had called unexpectedly. And their conversation had been almost stiflingly professional.

The woman, her tears all dried, tilted her head slightly as she regarded him. "Really? What do you feel is missing from such a promising life?"

Carlos bit his lip, embarrassment churning in his gut. "Well…I'd probably try and find someone."

Her gaze softened. "A lover?"

"Someone more permanent…" Carlos admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck, hating that his torrid love life had somehow entered the conversation. "My friend and I dated once…a long time ago. But we're just good friends again now. A relationship just didn't work out for us." He laughed. "We annoy each other too much and she's never been big on the dating scene. And since then I've just…drifted. I've either been unlucky or too busy to find someone to settle down with."

"What about now?" The woman asked. "Anyone in your life?"

Carlos made a noise between a groan and a snort. "Not since Trevor." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why, are you looking to score yourself a funny man?"

She laughed again, throwing her head back with mirth. "Not at all!" She responded, her eyes twinkling. Carlos' chest warmed at her happiness. He was glad he'd managed to cheer her up from before. "I'm afraid I'm not looking to settle down with anyone at the moment." She admitted, eyeing him conspiratorially. "And I think I'm a little too old for you."

He gave her a mock pout. "Ah well, it was worth a shot." He seriously doubted this woman was _that_ much older than him. She barely looked older than 30. Annie had been older then that when they'd dated last year.

But Carlos knew a brush-off when he saw one. He wasn't going to be rude and keep trying. Either way, he felt like he connected with this woman so much more as a friend than he ever could as a lover.

She obviously felt the same way. "Carlos, I wouldn't worry about you." She said, reaching for his hand. "You know where you're going and you have the tools to get you there." She shook his hand firmly, once as if to accentuate her message. "But don't forget to enjoy the ride."

Carlos nodded, hoping he could take her words to heart for the rest of his life. Speaking of enjoying the ride…there were two people he knew who really needed to just ask each other out already…

But before he could even begin to think about what excuses he might have made to end this very pleasant conversation, the woman was tactfully excusing herself. "It's been a pleasure talking with you…" She said, shaking his hand a little more enthusiastically now. "A real stroll down memory lane…"

He looked at her oddly. "Memory lane…?"

She quite suddenly dropped his hand. "I'd wish you luck, Carlos but…" She grinned at him, stirring some long-forgotten feeling in his stomach. "I know you wont need it."

The woman ducked away into the crowd, leaving Carlos standing alone in a sea of faces. Mind on autopilot, he turned away, his feet starting to carry him deeper into the ballroom. But something made him stop, tugged at the irrational part of his mind to call after the woman, to ask her to talk with him for awhile longer.

He glanced back over his shoulder and easily caught another glimpse of her. He watched the woman navigate the crowd in the ballroom — her eyes darting about as if looking for someone — for a few minutes, weighing his options and chances of going after her and trying to explain this nagging feeling he just _had_ to keep talking to her.

Her head turned slightly, as if she could feel his gaze from a dozen feet away. But she didn't turn back. She kept searching for whoever she was looking for. Carlos shook his head slightly, mystified. There was something about her, about the way she laughed so heartily at all of his pathetic jokes and seemed so comfortable discussing just about anything with him…it was both refreshing and nostalgic.

He smiled a small smile as she turned out of sight behind a group of tuxedoed attendees.

 _She reminds me of…her._

His heart tightened in his chest but he buried the old hurt under his usual funny-man mask and made his way across the ballroom.

Now, he had to go find his good buddy Tim.

* * *

Tim's lips were still tingling from where he'd kissed Anna's cheek. He knew he probably had a stupid giddy smile on his face but he didn't care. He darted through the crowd within the Walkerville Ballroom, searching for the flash of the neon green bowtie Carlos had insisted upon wearing tonight.

He thought he caught a flash of green and dodged around a councilman and a school superintendent for a better look. But it wasn't his best friend he caught sight of.

"Excuse me!" Tim called out, walking up to where she was standing, her back to him. The woman turned, her long, wavy hair following the motion of her head and framing her face dramatically. She smiled slightly as she saw him, her eyes pinching slightly at the ends. Tim paused, his artistic side stirring as he considered the subject before him.

As often happened whenever he was struck by the urge, he tried to imagine how he would draw her, if given the chance. Drawing had always been both invigorating and intense for him, allowing him to glean more from a given subject if he rendered diagrams, lines, and figures himself in graphite. Usually they were only objects that captured his eye, or concepts. Hardly any people. For this woman though, his fingers itched as his eye took in every detail. He'd definitely focus on the hair; that was for sure. Her hair was full, dark, and voluminous, cascading about her chiseled face and curvy shoulders. The black cocktail dress she wore clung perfectly to every curve and angle of her body, hiding nothing from those who looked. But her eyes…those hid more secrets than he could ever hope to probe. Her smile was distant and genuine, with just a touch of sadness.

What a subject.

Tim realized he hadn't said anything in the past minute or so and fumbled to start a conversation. "Sorry…I just…I remembered you…from the audience."

She looked him up and down, Tim getting the strangest sense that she had just learned more about him with one look than he had about her. "Of course." She replied after a moment, a smile lighting up her eyes. "It's my pleasure, Mr. Reynolds."

He held out his hand and she took it for a firm handshake. "Please, call me Tim." He imagined she had a strong singing voice, full of confidence and depth. Briefly, he pondered how he'd try to depict that in a drawing.

"I was hoping to run into you actually." She admitted, letting go of his hand and snapping him from his creative flow. "I gather I wasn't too accusatory in there…?"

Tim shook his head. "Not at all!" He assured her. "Carlos loves a good challenge, especially when it involves his work." He grinned. "You inspired him."

She inclined her head and raised an eyebrow as if to say: _Did you expect anything less?_ "As well as you, I hope?"

He shrugged. "Well, if Carlos is behind it, I'm definitely going to get dragged into it whether I wanted to or not."

She laughed. "Does he do this often then?"

Tim gestured meaninglessly with his hand. "Become obsessed with an idea and rope me into it? Yes." There was that time Carlos had dragged him into designing a nature center for the swamp, the time he'd convinced him to go bar-hopping in New York City and they'd ended up in a gay bar, the time they'd adopted three cats only to learn they were both violently allergic…

He shook his head, a smile twisting the corner of his mouth. Too many obsessive ideas to count. But that was what he loved about living and working with his best friend. You never knew what Carlos was going to do next.

"What about you?" She asked, "Does he get roped into your crazy ideas?"

Tim shrugged. "Not really, I mostly just draw things that inspire me, not start new multi-year projects."

He thought he heard her take a quick, excited gasp of breath. "Are you an artist?"

Tim winced but only because of the longing associated with the label. "Only for buildings, unfortunately."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Unfortunately?"

"I…" He paused, his usual shyness about his artistic urges strangely absent from the conversation. It was so easy to talk to this woman. Like he knew she would take him seriously no matter what he told her. So he told her.

"I used to want to be a comic book artist. 'The next Stan Lee' I imagined them calling me. I drew all the time when I was younger… in elementary school one time, my friend created this superhero named 'Weatherman'. I must have done about four separate adventures for him…"

The woman was silent but attentive. Her eyes had pinched slightly at the ends again, her face tightening. "I mean, I have so many ideas!" Tim continued, not used to having a captivated audience for so long. "So many stories, bouncing around in my head." They gnawed at him constantly, begging to be let out, constantly vying for his attention. "But there's just no time with my job and now this school project…" He shrugged, long over his ambitions to be anything more than he was. "We'll need a building plan more than we will a comic book series…"

"I think your creativity and innovation will really help this project flourish, Tim." The woman said suddenly, her voice unflinchingly convinced. He looked at her. "You have an eye for what is important and a unique way of translating difficult subjects into understandable formats."

Tim felt a blush crawl up his cheeks and looked away. He wondered if the woman knew he'd been thinking about how he would translate her. Her next question had him turning back to her again in surprise.

"Are you going to teach at the new school?"

"I…I've never considered that." He admitted. "But I would be honored to do so if the need arose." He certainly wasn't without subjects he felt prepared to teach: mathematics, engineering, art, film…

The woman was looking at him as if he were an ambiguous piece of art in a gallery: closely but knowledgably. "Why did you never consider it?"

Tim could have cited his paranoia about large crowds, or just his general lax and quiet personality. But for some reason, he didn't want to appear self-vindictive in front of her. "I'm not very good at confrontations." He settled on saying. "Or talking to large crowds. I'm too quiet and reserved to be a good teacher."

She smiled as if she had anticipated his answer. "On the contrary, I think you just listed four reasons why you'd make a great teacher."

Tim felt his brow furrow in confusion. "Huh?"

"Teachers don't confront," she informed him gently. "they mediate. They work with small groups to make big changes. They listen, and know when to tell their students and when to let them figure it out on their own." It felt like the room had grown smaller and smaller until it was just the two of them talking. Tim was entranced by this woman's ability to captivate the entirety of his attention. "a teacher needs to be creative, flexible and willing to let their students go off on their own to discover what they need to know." She smiled distantly, as if recalling fond memories.

Tim imagined her calling a classroom to attention, her eager pupils quieting instantly to listen to her. Maybe that would be how he drew her: commanding a small group of pupils. "Are you a teacher?" He found himself asking.

Her face lost any semblance of emotion. "I was once." She said hollowly. She did not offer any explanation.

"I just don't think I'd be able to combine all of my passions that way..." Tim said, as a way of moving the conversation away from her obviously uncomfortable past. "there isn't much overlap between engineering and art."

"Sure you must have done something that required both innovation and creativity?" The woman prodded him. "What with your profession and hobbies?"

Tim considered it. "Well…" Something came to mind and he smiled widely. "There was something."

The woman nodded, silently encouraging him to go on.

Tim practically shook with excitement. He loved thinking about this project. "My friend Dorothy Anne and I designed this amazing telescope!" He began, barely recognizing the glee in his voice. "I wish I had the real thing here for you but she's showing it off in a conference tonight…we arranged the lens differently, you see, refracting any light that enters it so that we can see almost three-times farther than the ordinary scopes…"

He continued to rant about the telescope, even diving into explaining some of the finer details of the mechanics and design, the way he would to a colleague. Tim only paused sometime later, when he realized the woman was blinking back tears.

She looked away from him, "Yes…I'd love to see that telescope sometime…"

"Are you alright?" He asked her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She only looked at him through her tears, offering no assurances or gratification. Tim was usually very good at reading people but for some reason, this woman completely eluded him. Maybe it was her strange smile that seemed to be simultaneously teasing him and yet also trying to remind him of something. Or perhaps her eyes which looked at him like they'd found something they'd been searching out for a long time.

She placed one gentle hand over his own on her shoulder. For a moment, they just stood there in comfortable silence. But who was comforting whom, Tim found he could not say. Eventually, the woman gently removed his hand from her shoulder. "I'm so sorry…I have to go…" She sounded tearful again but if she were about to cry, she hid it well. She ran her smooth fingertips over the calluses on his hand from years of gripping pencils and straightedges. "Best of luck Tim, you're going to be a great Teacher…"

Then she dropped his hand and vanished among the tuxedos and dresses of the reception hall.

Tim stood very still, blinking slowly, the sensation of her touch slowly fading. He had a burning desire for a pen, a scrap of paper. Anything that would help him commit the face to memory. He knew exactly how he wanted to capture her so that all of her would be apparent: standing tall and proud, her hair whipping about her as if she had just been called, her eyes glistening with unshed tears and the corner of her mouth curling into a knowing smile…

Tim shuddered as the image overtook his mind, his fingers twitching for anything to let the creative urges out. _There's more to that woman than meets the eye…_

A sudden thought occurred to him, muting his overwhelming need to sit and draw. _Maybe she knew…her…_

But there was no more room for him to ponder the troubling thought. At that very moment, he found that stupid green bowtie among the swarm of identical tuxes and made his way over to his best friend. Carlos always listened, even when his thoughts made no sense. And he always carried a pen.

 _Fin_


End file.
